


You Will Recall Our Names

by Nyxokal



Series: YWKON [2]
Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Companion Piece, One Shot Collection, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person Limited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-23 19:26:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17086295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxokal/pseuds/Nyxokal
Summary: The moments in-between, the little glimpses into lives individual and yet so intricately networked.Or, companion pieces forrarmaster'sTales of Symphonia/Xenoblade Chronicles 2 AU,You Will Know Our Names.





	1. At The Beginning Of A Broken Eternity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rarmaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarmaster/gifts), [Aerora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerora/gifts).



> Hey! If you haven't yet read [You Will Know Our Names](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17010126/chapters/39989793), then I highly suggest you do so, as several of the pieces I will be posting here either directly spoil or reference multiple scenes talked about in the main fic. If you already have, then, hi! Welcome to the side-side-content, I will be your guide!
> 
> Many thanks to Rar for allowing me to write all of these pieces for her delight of an AU, as well as listing me as co-author of the series. Seriously, I cannot express how honoured this makes me, and I hope my work is to your liking. Thank you!
> 
> Oh, yeah. The title of this collection is an obvious reference to the main AU's title, but also an actual song from the Xenoblade 2 OST. [Give it a listen if you'd like!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WM9Mq_Gjn50)
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!

Life comes quick, and instantly filled with pain.

There’s a bright, red light as Kratos’ physical form starts to manifest and take shape, and then all that Kratos knows is fear.

Fear.

Fear deep and slipping into terror when he opens his eyes and sees several neon lights set upon him, the ringing in his ears growing exponentially the longer he spends summoned into the world, fresh ether running wild across his system. His core crystal shines a bright red light as he squints, as if competing against the brightness of the room, illuminating his immediate surroundings.

“No,” comes a voice, small, trembling, breathless. “Oh, oh no. No, no, please. Please don’t do this.”

Something squeezes at Kratos’ core, a thick dread blocking his throat and leaving him winded. A deep-rooted instinct of protectiveness and self-preservation bubbles up his ether, through the numb and dissociative feeling of someone else’s terror—his driver, most likely, bleeding emotion into his being first thing. He blinks. There’s a shuffling sound in the air, a gasp, more pleading that goes ignored. Laughter. More fear, stabbing through his core. Kratos doesn’t know what’s happening, unmoving and bathed in light as he is. Kratos doesn’t even know where they  _ are. _

He steps forward, reaches for his sword—

Why can’t he move?

Kratos grunts, body locked in on itself as he tries in vain to push his arms up, to reach for his weapon, to protect. But he’s paralyzed, unbalanced. Nauseous with the taste of someone else’s panic. His ether shudders as the laughter from before turns into shouting, several voices tangled with each other in cacophony, screaming. Glass breaks as something hits the floor, somewhere. Kratos cannot see it.

Red ether still fills his vision, pulsing and burning. His ether lines glow brighter the more time that passes. Like a human’s heartbeat, he thinks grimly as the panic turns to a downright animalistic instinct to get away, get away,  _ get away. _

But he cannot move.

He cannot  _ move. _

“Hey,” comes another voice, deeper and calmer, something that sets Kratos’ ether aflame with anger and terror both. “Can we just get this over with? The blade’s awake. We don’t have all day.”

Grunting, a hiss. A cap coming off. “On it,” a third voice says.

Kratos isn’t sure if he really wishes he could see.

A scream, sharp and accompanied with cold despair in Kratos’ stomach. It must belong to his driver, Kratos thinks as the terror ebbs away, makes way for nothing instead as a loud  _ thud  _ resounds across the room. Unconscious, probably. Otherwise Kratos would’ve died too. The lack of a signal from his driver scares him more than the overwhelming wave of emotion from before.

Sighing, relieved. “There we go. Knocked him the hell down.”

_ “Finally! _ Thank the Architect.”

The new wave of fear that rushes through Kratos’ body is very much his own this time, something thick and defiant as he realizes exactly what is going to happen next. Without his driver in the picture, all that’s left is him. And paralyzed and trapped as he is, Kratos is at their mercy, whoever they are.

Kratos grits his teeth, clenches his hands into fists. To begin a life trapped and cornered like prey, a recently awakened blade with no reference of the world around him other than his name...

Of all the lives he’s lived, of all the lives he’s forgotten, he’s sure this is definitely the worst of all.

(And it will be his last.)

A figure enters his field of view. His head snaps up to meet their eyes, finds them hidden behind a glare reflected against a pair of glasses. Their smile is but a blur in the red light of Kratos’ bright, bright ether. Like a trapped animal Kratos glares. His attempt to battle the magnetism of whatever is restraining him causes his whole body to shake.

“Secure the driver,” the figure says, voice clear this close to Kratos’ face. They examine him from afar, smart enough not to come close. It’s infuriating. “And someone come get the blade ready for the procedure, too. We don’t have much time to act.”

It’s like the air is knocked out of Kratos’ lungs, when he hears that.

And smiling, pleased with themselves, the figure reaches up to push their glasses up their nose.

“Let’s begin the experiment.”


	2. ICMP ECHO_REQUEST

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ICMP means "Internet Control Message Protocol", an internet protocol used to send error messages and operational information. By performing an echo request, you can ping a requested service or host to check its availability.

It’s like being plunged into an overwhelmingly icy ocean, his descent slow until he lands at the bottom of the waters, laying on his back against the flat rocks and with his eyes closed against the coldness of unconscious.

Bubbles rising from his mouth as he exhales slowly, noiseless save for their buoyancy rippling through the water, a quiet echo to his ears above the mumbling in the waves. It’s a sensation unique to a blade, a liminal space accessible only to one of his own kind; the temporary space that houses a blade’s mind during dormancy, a waiting area, a chamber of repose where memories come to be stripped away before waking.

Except for Zelos, for Colette. For Mithos and Martel.

For an Aegis, this is just a pit-stop to hit in the time between an old driver and a new one. For an Aegis it’s more like a hub, with little whispers and echoes still rippling in the water, leftovers of blade transfers, deaths, of uploads and creation. The highway of information for all of bladekind, the safety net beneath the death of a driver. The network lying at the bottom of all blades’ minds, relaying this information to Architect knows where.

He can’t open his eyes, can’t get up, can’t speak, can’t do anything but lie there and listen to the bubbling of life and memory in the abyss of bladekind’s network—he knows this is an error, a right he has no access to, and so he resigns. Yet it’s not uncomfortable. There are no words to describe this, anyway. He doesn’t even think anything comes close to it, an experience unique to a blade, then in turn unique to an Aegis—it’s a wonder, he thinks, that a fake like him can even come  _ this  _ close to experiencing it. 

Then, exactly a minute after his arrival, a new socket opens near the surface with his ether signature all over it, drawing his full attention to it and severing his quiet musings and contemplation. And upon closer inspection of its respective node Zelos smiles, feels it more than hears it when he hums in satisfaction against the currents.

Right, then. He has work to do.

He takes a deep breath and slowly, painfully reaches a hand up towards the light above, tendrils of ether traveling up the waves and outstretching towards its twin signature.

Grasping a connection isn’t hard when it’s just reuniting the little pinprick he left behind with Lloyd before dormancy hit him, but just for good measure he still tests his resonance with his new driver through an ether signal, hoping, then satisfied when Lloyd’s own ether sends another one of equal value back. Good, Zelos thinks. There’ll be no problem establishing an ether link to work with, let alone transferring in the first place.

Good.

Eyes still closed Zelos closes his outstretched hand into a fist, locking the link, then pulling, pulling, pulling down the node until it’s closer to work with. His other hand then settles on his core crystal, gloved fingers running through its surface as he searches for Seles’ port—the echoes of her pulse in his own. He finds her immediately and grins, her signature strong and steady within his veins. Perfect. Next, using himself as a conduit between them, Zelos tests the channel now opened between Seles and Lloyd, observes the way their ether travels back and forth through him in bursts. It’s warm and comforting, yet powerful like electricity, each packet of ether delivered and sent making him shiver against the waters.

He’s never seen anything quite like it, before. He’s never  _ felt  _ anything quite like it, this link coursing through his veins, three heartbeats slowing and hastening until they echo together in perfect symmetry. It’s downright sublime. He's excited, underneath it all, underneath the pain and exhaustion left over from the cannon that slowly but surely clings to him as he works. Because this is a good one, his instincts say. This is a good driver.

This is a good human.

Zelos counts himself lucky, here at the bottom of the network, smiling softly as he changes the parameters of their connection to get exactly what he wants next. They won’t know, back in the real world, what’s even happening as Zelos prepares for the transfer. He’ll be the only one to know.

He prays to the Architect above that he won’t mess it up and forget this moment during the transfer, that he’ll get to tuck this memory away for himself later after awakening. And if not...

If not, then… 

Oh well.

Open the socket, ping them both, keep Lloyd requesting and Seles receptive. Just as he predicted this whole thing is a lot easier when both drivers are willing and reachable, so after a couple of little tests Zelos gets to work on the real thing immediately—little by little, the hand on his core crystal reaches deeper into his data logs, rips apart chunks of information necessary for his wielding and hosting, preparing and translating it for Lloyd’s use.

It comes so naturally to Zelos that he barely feels the transfer, the bits and bytes of himself already delivered to Lloyd feeling at home and safe, resonating with his ether signature, passing through the socket and resting in his core. Memories, dreams, ether, his very nature as a blade. Package after package, information mixed and reassembled after taking it back from Seles, sent and delivered through ether ripples by force of will. The constant humming in the water is a comforting source of white noise that numbs him to the procedure. 

And then he falters, once, the transfer halting and hiccuping until something breaks. 

For a moment, he loses sight of himself. And then he loses something else.

_ Oh. _

Right, of course. He should’ve seen it coming. A driver transfer, an experience unique to an Aegis—it’s a wonder, Zelos thinks as his smile drops, that a fake like him can even come  _ this  _ close to successfully pulling it off.

Zelos counts himself lucky, here at the bottom of the network, that he gets to experience this at all.

The water ripples around the Aegis as this ether signal cracks and tears away the package within it. Helplessly he feels it as small particles of ether break off him and drift through the sea, joining the mumbles around him, joining other data lost to other blades. The rest of it floats correctly through the link between his drivers, reaching Lloyd quickly enough to avoid further data loss. But the damage is done. Absently, Zelos wonders what was taken with it. He wonders what left, if it was anything important.

But he can’t focus on that, right now. Not when he still has work left to do.

They’re all counting on him to join them again, after all. He better not keep them waiting.

Oh well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, we don't talk about it in the main AU but [Zelos partially lost a small fraction of his memories during the driver transfer.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ag1o3koTLWM) He is _very_ aware of it, but cannot recall _what_ he lost. I should explore that in another piece I've yet to finish though, but for now, now you know why he had that outburst with Yuan's request in the main fic!!


	3. Runs In The Family

There is no sight that can compare to this back home in Iselia, is the first thing Lloyd thinks of as night begins to fall over the mountain and the crystals sticking out of the ground slowly begin to glow around him.

Puffs of white vapour escaping his lips as he laughs, the joy in his heart at the sight pumping through his veins like warm ether and blood. It passes from him to Colette in waves, her own laughter softer in the air and hidden under his, Sylvarant’s Aegis enjoying the sights in tandem with her driver. Lloyd can feel it. He spares her a glance, a grin. The one she mirrors back at him is tinted in the pinkish-green light of her core crystal and ether lines, huge and genuine, happiness overflowing from her ether link to Lloyd’s.

It makes her look almost as ethereal as the scenery around them, just like the light show up on this peak.

Slowly and gently the snow around them falls, and with nearly childish glee Lloyd extends a hand to the air to catch some in his gloved palm, watches the flakes reflect the light of the lit-up crystals that surrounds their little trio. It’s a sharp cold that seeps through the fabric and onto his skin when the snow melts, making him shiver, huff.

He wipes his hand on his pants, wraps his arms around himself. The silence around them is only broken by their footsteps and the wind. Lloyd hears Colette’s footsteps on the snow as she joins him to his left. “Never seen anything quite like this,” Lloyd mumbles under his breath. “It’s amazing!”

“I wonder what it is that causes it,” Colette muses. She nods off to the glowing crystals on the road, hands clasped over her own core. “They look lovely.”

“Pure, solidified ether is translucent in its crystalized form,” comes Kratos’ voice, his words loud yet gentle in the snowstorm. He passes driver and blade as he walks, stopping in front of them to gesture at the scenery with his free hand, the other still held on the hilt of his blade. “When sunlight hits the ether crystal at just the right angle, it glows and produces a beam of light.” 

Lloyd feels Colette’s delight without her even voicing it, lets it flow through him. “Does that kinda thing only happen up here?” he asks.

And to this Kratos shakes his head. “It can happen anywhere, though I suppose it is more common to find them in places where the ether in the atmosphere is much more highly concentrated, such as mountain tops and marshes.” He sighs, another puff of white vapour to join the white of snow, then lifts up a hand to catch some stray snowflakes in a mirror of Lloyd’s earlier gesture. “There must be places specifically used for mining these, though. I know that many settlements use artificially lit, interconnected lamps containing crystalized ether as guiding posts in the darkness.”

The driver of the Aegis raises an eyebrow, rubs at his arms to regain some warmth. “People  _ sell  _ ether crystals?”

“It’s not much different from selling jewelry or purchasing materials to smith with,” the man shrugs. He sounds tense now, for some reason.  _ Looks  _ tense. Kratos makes a grumbling sound at the back of his throat that Lloyd barely even catches. “It is merely a natural resource, after all,” he finishes with a huff.

Lloyd makes a low sound into the air, nodding to show that he understands, even if he’s filled with even more questions than before. Why Kratos would be mad about something like that is a mystery to him, but he supposes it’s better not to pry. He doesn’t even feel like it, anyway, too mesmerized by the atmosphere and sight to think harder on Kratos’ words.

The wonder in his veins is intoxicating, though too strong for him to call it fully his. His red eyes settle on his Aegis—on Colette—and find her with her eyes closed and her hands clasped together in front of her, smiling just as brightly as her crystal as she takes in a deep breath, as she stands there bathed by the snow.

“I think that’s wonderful,” Colette beams after a short pause, opening her eyes. She sets them on Kratos, tilts her head, giggles. “A natural resource that this world, our world, is capable of creating all on its own…”

She trails off, then. Kratos regards her for a moment, staring even as Colette opens her hands and starts running her fingers across the cracks of her crystal. Lloyd watches the exchange, takes in the way Kratos flinches, then abruptly turns away.

“We ought to find the Sage siblings before the sun fully sets,” Kratos says. “Let’s get going.”

He starts walking again after that, without a warning and without waiting for the other two.

Lloyd raises an eyebrow. He feels the same amount of surprise and confusion as Colette does in that moment, the emotions bouncing together through their link. He spares a glance at his Aegis to check in on her, then shrugs when she blinks in confusion at him.  _ Oh well,  _ the gesture says. They’ve been traveling together for long enough for him to accept that Kratos is just prickly like that. There’s nothing they can do.

And so they move on.

The rest of the climb is uneventful and quiet, with Lloyd and Colette walking side by side and dutifully behind Kratos, taking in the sights, pointing out interestingly-shaped crystals and other things, laughing and talking together in soft mumbles as if the act of speaking any louder would disturb the man guiding them. Lloyd still can’t believe he’s out here, climbing Valak Mountain together with Sylvarant’s Aegis, chatting with her as if she were any old friend.

He’d heard of Valak before, in passing, but now Lloyd thinks that nothing he’d heard or read could ever have prepared him for any of this. Valak is a tall, snowy mountain near Flanoir’s border that stands mostly uninhabited and unexplored, too precarious and rich in ether for any human not used to such highly concentrated amounts of it to even  _ think _ of climbing.

And yet it is the one place the Sage siblings have apparently decided to move over to.

Huh.

Something icy runs down Lloyd’s spine. He purses his lips. Still walking he sets his eyes on a large, glowing crystal as they pass by it, close enough for him to lay a gloved hand over it, run it along its cold surface as he walks. 

Whatever could’ve prompted the driver and blade duo to move to a desolate, lonely place like this, he wonders. Because there’s something here he’s definitely missing. Lloyd knows the side-effects of ether poisoning, has seen it happen time and time again to careless travelers and miners who don’t know how to handle it. It makes him shiver as he wonders just where it is that other people have climbed the furthest up Valak Mountain before encountering the effects, if Genis is holding up alright wherever he and Raine are. 

And with a popping fizzle of anxiety at the pit of his stomach Lloyd wonders when _he_ will start feeling the side-effects of the ether, how much further he has until—

“Lloyd?”

It’s Colette.

He turns to look at her, startled, and finds her standing further ahead with Kratos, the both of them looking back to where Lloyd has seemingly stopped in his tracks. Colette’s frowning, and her worry runs along their link as Lloyd blinks away the surprise and anxiety filtering through from his end, as he mentally curses his inability to keep his emotions in check. She looks so worried,  _ feels  _ worried. Lloyd doesn’t like that look on her at all.

It makes him feel guilty knowing he’s the one that’s caused it.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

The laugh that comes out of his lips is so strained he barely suppresses a cringe. He passes it off as shivering, though, rubs at his arms to sell the picture he wants. “I’m okay,” he lies. “I’m just really,  _ really _ cold. How much further?”

Lloyd has to wonder if Colette is already  _ that  _ used to him when she doesn’t look convinced at all. “Well, ah... that’s not what I…”

“Is the ether in the air bothering you?” Kratos steps forward.

_ Shit. _

The boy snaps to stand up straighter the  _ second  _ the word ‘ether’ leaves Kratos’ mouth. “Nope. Don’t feel it, really.”

Kratos squints, nearly scowling. “Is that so?”

“I—I mean,” Lloyd caves in, flushing. For some reason the force of Kratos’ stare feels heavy on his shoulders. “The air feels a little weird, sure, but not  _ deadly  _ weird. It’s more like, ah,” he trails off, searching for a word for a few seconds and then snapping his fingers once he’s found something satisfactory enough. “Cleaner…? It feels really pure and clean to breathe in.”

He can’t keep looking at Kratos, so he averts his eyes and wraps his arms around himself again, puffs of vapour leaving his lips as he laughs awkwardly into the twilight. “Ha ha, uh. You’d think it would actually get worse the higher up the mountain we got, huh?”

“We are, in fact, not too far from the summit.” Kratos pauses then, and even though Lloyd still has his sights set on the setting sun in the horizon, on the last rays of light, in his peripheral vision he still sees the way the man fully turns around to see him, tilts his head. “Are you... certain, that you are alright?”

Lloyd curls further into himself. “Hey, I really am fine, okay!” He really doesn’t want to have this discussion, but he should at least get the man off his case, so Lloyd forces himself to look at Kratos again, pouts. “I swear! Maybe all that stuff about this place being all bad for humans was just a rumour to keep travelers away!”

“I highly doubt that is how it works.”

“Says who?”

“Lloyd—”

“Hey, maybe it’s because I’m Colette’s driver!” Lloyd exclaims, gesturing over to the girl next to Kratos with both arms. She jumps and squeaks a little startled sound, her surprise sudden and cold in Lloyd’s chest. Quietly, Lloyd sends a small, gentle apology her way. “She’s a blade, right? And blades are joined with their drivers and they filter ether. Aegises probably just do that even better.” He grins at Colette. He hopes it doesn’t look nearly as desperate as it feels. “Right?”

Colette’s eyes flicker between Kratos and Lloyd before she settles her wide gaze on Lloyd. She considers them both, then seemingly makes up her mind. He really owes her for this, is what Lloyd thinks as Colette clasps her hands before her crystal, nods eagerly. “Y—Yeah! That’s right!”

Running over to her is harder for Lloyd to do while trying to keep relief from flooring him. “See? She’s helping!”

“I’m helping!”

Silence falls just as the sun finishes setting in the horizon. In the darkness of the night, whatever sunlight the ether crystals around them managed to gather into themselves shines brightly still, illuminating the way, going up and up, most likely all the way to the summit. The only thing glowing just as brightly, if not brighter, are the two blades accompanying Lloyd. And even with the tension around them feeling strong, the sight around them is still breathtaking.

For now Lloyd stares Kratos down, resolute, nervous. He takes a deep breath, exhales slowly, feels the cold air of Valak Mountain rushing through his lungs. Unfiltered, ether-rich, cold mountain air. It  _ does  _ feel cleaner than he’s used to, and a heavy worry settles at the pit of his stomach once again. It shouldn’t feel this good, right?

Then he feels a tug of a different type of worry to his side, a little pinprick in his subconscious, and Lloyd inhales sharply. Instinctively he reaches for Colette’s hand, and slowly, discreetly laces his pinky finger with hers. Thank you, is part of what he wants to say, what he hopes the gesture can convey. I’m sorry, is another. Please don’t say anything else.

Colette’s pinky twitches twice.

_ It’s okay. _

Without the sun to shine down on the cold landscape, it’s quickly getting colder now. Kratos stays rigid for a while longer before a breeze rushes between him and his two charges, making both of them shiver. Just like that Kratos’ tension seems to grow, his face darkening as he grips the hilt of his sword even tighter than before.

“We will discuss this later. For now it’s best if we move.”

He turns on his heel and looks over his shoulder, now waiting for the driver and Aegis pair to take the hint and follow after him. This time, Lloyd and Colette join him immediately. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few things:
> 
>   * We put Valak Mountain in here because the sights are gorgeous. You ever seen it? It's like literally a vacation spot
>   * This is the first of at least two "Lloyd realizes he's a hybrid oh boy" pieces. Problem is, the second isn't written down yet
>   * The Sage siblings had positioned themselves up on top of the mountain due to the high concentrated amount of ether in the atmosphere, which would've been a good treatment for Genis' condition. They left because Genis was too attached to Lloyd to refuse to help him out and Raine just HAD to follow along
> Sorry for the delay! I've got two pieces still left to finish (at least rn) and work has been hectic with deadlines, but I'll try uploading every now and then.



	4. A Cage Went In Search Of Its Birds

The ether particles that fly up in the air when their swords clash look like the sparks of a fire, pink on orange released upon impact, warm in colour and energy. They shine their brightest in the relative darkness of the early morning, leftover incandescence glowing like the ether lines etched into the Aegises’ bodies. Another clash releases a few more, and then another, and another and another—like a series of fireworks going off, ethereal fireflies in the sky.

Colette raises her sword the second she sees her companion jump up in the air. She gasps on impact, receiving the brunt of Zelos’ next blow with her own blade, the Tethe’allan Aegis smirking as he precariously balances his weight against her sword.  _ Showoff,  _ a part of Colette thinks as she grunts, grits her teeth. Then quickly and with all her might Colette pushes upwards until Zelos is shoved off in a parabola, soon landing behind her with a loud  _ crunch  _ of the grass under his feet.

She turns around on her heel, her sword held tightly in both hands. Laboured breaths rake her chest, setting fire to her lungs and throat. Silence falls, stark and heavy in the absence of Martel’s presence in her mind—she is distant, now, trying to let Colette go through this on her own rather than bleed her knowledge of the war into her.

Colette is grateful for the opportunity. A private chance to grow on her own, hand in hand with her partner—Artificial Aegis versus Artificial Aegis, it is all a simple duel between replicas to measure their abilities and improve on an ingrained skill atrophied by time.

Breathe in, breathe out. Zelos stands with his blade drawn and gripped tightly in one hand, the other held before him in his particular battle stance. In the absence of a sun, this early in the morning, they both glow like a simultaneous occurrence of dawn and dusk in the dark. He’s panting, exhaustion already clinging to him in the same way that it creeps up Colette’s own spine, but within their circuit she can feel his elation, some hint of amusement riding the waves of their link.

Zelos is enjoying himself.

It makes Colette smile, in turn.

There’s a feedback loop of joy in their veins, now. Relaxed and at ease, Colette watches Zelos draw in a sharp breath and release it in a huff. He rises from his stance and holds his sword low and at rest, so she mimics his posture, passing her sword to one hand while the other rises to clutch at her core crystal, absently running her fingers across the cracks as she calms her breathing.

It’s some habit from her last days before her escape. A comforting gesture, perhaps, for herself and for Martel.

Violet eyes flicker to her crystal.

Abruptly aware of the wisp of anger choking at her, Colette freezes in her tracks, the little displeased twitch on Zelos’ expression reminding her that her fellow Aegis doesn’t know the meaning behind the gesture. The silence quickly turns deafening. She wonders what it must look like instead, to an outsider like Zelos, that in every waking moment she keeps on fiddling with the only evidence of humanity’s butchery left on her person. Pink on green, an unnatural connection—something that shouldn’t be, something that shouldn’t have ever been.

Something that she would never trade for anything else in the world, if she’s honest.

But.

Zelos makes eye contact with Colette again, a little fabricated smirk painted on his lips. "You okay?" is what he asks, free hand on his hips as he curiously tilts his head to the side, red hair cascading off his shoulders, bangs obscuring his face without the headband there to support them. "You look tired. Don't push yourself too far, sweetheart,” Zelos shrugs like it’s all some joke, like he’s teasing. “If you need to stop, just let me know."

He says it so casually, biting back the heavy breathing and hiding it in his sweetness, but the truth is that he can’t hide anything from his other. It’s all familiar, nothing Colette hasn’t seen or lived before. Because sometimes Tethe’alla’s Aegis gains a certain edge to his voice that’s syrupy like honey, hitting a note that Colette instantly recognizes, one that’s meant to calm and disguise, meant to distract, but try as he may to mask it a familiar anxiety still bubbles in Colette’s chest. Zelos’ emotions still still float within their connection, some worry mixed with guilt mixed with rage washing up in the shores of Colette’s subconscious.

It’s a little overwhelming, getting the brunt of it without Lloyd here to mediate between them, but a mirror is a mirror, and this is nothing she can’t handle. So Colette drops her hand and hides it behind her back, her crystal now in full display, and does what she does best. "I’m okay!" she smiles for him, nodding enthusiastically. “This is the first time I do something like this, but I  _ want  _ to learn. I can do it!”

A hum from Tethe’alla’s Aegis, unconvinced. More slivers of guilt, in their link, now muddled with something pitiful that withers like a flower under snow. So familiar, all of it. Colette hates the way it shapes around her heart.

Zelos sighs. He moves to push his hair back over his shoulder, his sword alight like fire to his side, looking like the flames of the sunrise before Colette. “Yeah, yeah. But, still. We…” he trails off, eyes on some distant something away from Colette’s field of vision, that smirk softening into something gentler and sadder. 

He waits a second, two. 

And then, finally: “We weren't made to fight, you know.”

Ah.

Colette’s smile falters just a fraction. Before her Zelos rubs at the back of his neck, eyes closed, grumbling in the darkness. Decidedly not looking at her reaction, she thinks. Because now there’s something wistful in the echoes of his voice carried across the ether in the air, some gentle pull of his words that helps Colette  _ understand  _ even without the emotional link already etched into their ether lines, into their cores; it’s there only for one who knows how to look for it, for one who has already experienced it intimately all her life. 

The world lost two Aegises, after the war.

Unable to stand the loss, unable to accept defeat, the world then set out to create two new, artificial ones as a hypocritical sign of peace.

What a pair they make, are the words carried in the waves of their connection, a couple of replicas made as placeholders, kept around just for show while still carrying enough power in their veins to burn the world if they so wished for it. 

Power used against their will, power used against the world that birthed them.

Used to hurt one another.

Colette’s grip on her sword tightens—

She catches the frustration bubbling in her ether before it leaks into their link. Colette shuts her eyes, takes a deep breath, holds it. Two seconds later she releases it in a loud sigh, precariously pushing her smile back on its place as she opens her eyes once more. Zelos is looking at her again, expectant violet eyes searching her face. 

“It’s never too late to learn, though,” Colette carefully speaks, all optimism and smiles and joy joy joy. “I think that’s exciting. Don’t you?”

It works, somewhat. Zelos snorts. He’s got a tiny grin on his face now when he raises his sword to eye level, head tilted as he examines the orange ether bar burning on the center. “I guess,” he shrugs. Then he hums, low. “Sure feels different wielding your own sword, at least. After all these years, I’d nearly forgotten I even had it.”

Colette hums back, half in understanding, half lost in thought. Held in both hands she lifts her own blade and looks down at it, mimicking her counterpart. She marvels at it, now, at the pink of morning, the dawn of a new day that feels more like an extension of herself than just a weapon at her disposal.

“Usually it's Lloyd wielding my sword, or Martel fighting in my place,” she says. Pink particles dance before her eyes. The distribution of ether in her core crystal beats in her chest like a pulse, Martel’s echo held within it. Colette refrains from running her fingers across the scars again, makes do with pulling her blade closer to her face, eyes closed against the warmth of the burning ether. “But,” she adds, careful once again, “I can’t rely on them all the time.”

The short, little hum from Zelos is the last thing said between them before silence creeps up on them again, thick like fog, yet gentle like a cloud. 

She takes a deep breath, steady, smiling. The early morning air is crisp and clear still, much cleaner than that of Sylvarant’s facilities. It’s intoxicating, so much so that sometimes Colette wakes up earlier than the rest of their party just to breathe it in, just to take in the sky, just to savour the moment—and even months after her meeting with Lloyd, she still can’t get enough of it. 

It’s odd, how such little things mean so much to an Aegis, little vignettes to a world they’d never known before any this.

Ether in their link resonates with something fresh and calm. This close to her, Colette can feel the way her sword hides her ether’s pulse in its glow, and for a moment she wonders if this is what it’s like to have a heart. She feels it more than sees it when Zelos dismisses his sword, listens intently for the crunching of the grass beneath his feet as he approaches, the wavelength between them shrinking.

“Did you know it was my first time fighting, when I challenged Lloyd?”

Zelos’ voice is playful, just like the droplets of emotion in their link. It makes Colette open her eyes and giggle at her partner. “I could tell,” Colette teases. Her sword vanishes in a flash of pink light, and in the absence of their swords only their bodies produce enough light to see in this temporary, shallow dark. “I think… that we all did.”

Her words elicit an instantaneous, indignant grumble from Zelos, audible only now that he’s standing next to her. “Hey, now,” Zelos pouts. He says nothing else, just crosses his arms and gently pushes his shoulder against hers, playful and reassuring at the same time. Probably remnants of his bond with Seles bleeding into his interaction with Colette, she thinks.

It’s... nice.

She relishes in the way his glee feels in their link as he laughs when Colette does. Their sparring match all but forgotten for now they both lift their gazes up to the receding stars, and Colette’s eyes easily find the ghostly imprints of the world’s moons painted in the gradient colours of a new dawn. Seems like everything in this world always comes in pairs. Sylvarant’s Aegis smiles, sets a hand over her crystal, hoping Martel can see the sunrise somewhere through her eyes. 

It takes a moment before Zelos speaks again. “It was… exhilarating, you know?”

Colette offers a hum. “The fight?” 

“The sensation of control.”

Oh.

Sylvarant’s Aegis rips her gaze from the sky to take in the image of her Tethe’allan counterpart. He’s not looking at the stars anymore, either, instead focused on pulling the glove on his left hand off, exposing the orange ether lines on his palm and forearm. He traces them with his fingers, gently, slowly, ether bubbling with an emotion too thick and charged for Colette to try and pick apart. 

So instead she silently follows his gaze, rests her blue eyes on his orange glow. Colette knows the gesture, has performed it countless times by herself, knows that Martel has done it thanks to muscle memory alone. Because if she presses her fingers to her own ether lines on her skin and closes her eyes, then Colette can pretend they’re like a human’s veins, confuse her pulsing ether for a human’s heartbeat. 

If she tries hard enough, Colette can sink into the illusion and trick herself into imagining she has the independence that a human does. 

She wonders if Lloyd thinks the same, sometimes. She wonders if Sheena does.

Hm.

Zelos snorts after a short silence, shattering the mirage and bringing Colette back to the present. She has to blink the past out of her eyes, startled. His gloved right hand clasps his naked wrist, his thumb still rubbing against the ether line there. All his fiddling makes her start tracing the scars on her core. 

It’s weird, seeing him like this. He looks almost vulnerable.

A huff, a smirk. “Ah, but,” his voice is tangled in a sigh, “compared to what I can do  _ now, _ it’s embarrassing when I think back on it and see how badly I was doing.”

Something thick and radiant pushes through their link. It shows itself in tiny bursts, excited and fearful all the same—it glows like ether, in his core. She’s pretty sure it’s mirroring something in her own. There’s an echo of something in her mind, in her soul, that makes all of this feel comforting and familiar. 

Colette rests her head against his shoulder, half reassuring him, half reassuring herself. 

“I think you did great,” the whisper leaves her mouth.

“I think I did terrible,” Zelos laughs. It’s self-deprecating on the outside, but lacking any bite, feeling more like a personal little joke than a personal jab at himself. He closes his hand into a fist. “But after enough practice,” he adds, and Colette can see him looking at her from his peripheral vision, smiling, “you get the hang of it, y’know?” 

She answers him with a hum and a shrug, with closed eyes. “We weren’t made to fight, but…” Colette sighs. “It’s still in our instincts, isn’t it?”

Zelos snorts, then chuckles, ruffles at her hair. It makes Colette laugh. “Yep. And you’ll get the hang of it, too,” Zelos says. His voice is light and proud. “I mean, I know  _ I’m _ still getting the hang of it. But”—his hand drops—”that’s why we’re here, yeah?”

_ (“You’ll get the hang of it too, sis. But, that’s why we’re here, yeah?”) _

Sylvarant’s Aegis opens her eyes. “Yeah.”

Tethe’alla’s Aegis hums low in his throat. “Good.”

A pair of Aegises watch the stars disappear and the sun rise, drinking in all the pinks and oranges in the sky.

For the first time in her life, Colette understands what having a family is like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the sparring match Zelos and Colette were having while Yuan was going through his journal!
> 
> This was an interesting piece to cover. It was originally going to go somewhere very different, talking about the differences in each Aegis' lives, but in the end I settled for exploring Colette's mind a little more and talking about how they finally feel in control of their destinies as well as how they're still learning how to fight.


	5. In Time, All Wounds Will Heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest piece in the whole collection, standing at around 12k words total, but it's also the one that holds the most lore. So, buckle up because you're about to learn a lot about artificial Aegises, Tethe'alla, the Seles-Sheena-Zelos dynamic, and memories

Something’s not right, is the one thought that crosses Sheena’s mind right before it all predictably goes to hell.

There’s a loud ring in the air as the ether between candidate and Aegis interconnects and clashes, an energy so hot it burns like fire in her veins. Slow at first and then all at once, it bursts bright and scorching, a cry etched into the ether in the air. It fills the room, hides everything within it, and in its chaos Sheena screams, a screeching note ripped out of her throat and tangling with the crystal’s own.

Eyes wide open, gazeless, lost. Pain, pain and noise, so much noise, an endless stream of information that she cannot pick apart nor understand, numbers and words and sounds she doesn’t get. Words spoken in a language she does not know, a tone she cannot read. Overloading electricity in her nervous system causing her heart to shake as she endlessly convulses through it. The power of the Aegis, coursing her unqualified veins, escaping her in lightning and screams. Power she’s unworthy of. Power that she’s failed to tame.

She’s not fit to be a driver, after all. She never was.

Ah.

Just as quickly as it came, it leaves. The Aegis finishes its rejection of her rather spectacularly, casts her aside like a worn rag in an explosion of light and electricity, a bang so loud Sheena’s eardrums burst. Her small body hits a wall and she screams, then falls on her knees, heaving. Nauseating shame and panic slip out from where she hit her head, from where the blood and pain trails down at the back of her neck.

The world is growing darker, darker, darker and number. Sheena can’t stay. Her eyes are closing, lost and foggy sights set on the glowing orange crystal on the table, lips parting to mouth a curse that her weak voice just will not carry out.

An anguished misery is the last thing she feels, the one thing that blankets her as the darkness finally drowns and swallows her whole, and then Sheena knows no more.

* * *

Arms wrapped around her legs, her chin carefully, gently tucked between her knees, Sheena takes in a deep breath, lets the sweet scent of summer fill her lungs and clear her mind. Undisturbed nature everywhere she looks, the clean air of a world not ready to give in to its ills just yet, of an innocent landscape undisturbed by war and hate. No borders in sight, no buildings, nothing. Up here on this mountain as they are, Tethe’alla’s fields overlook Sylvarant’s valleys, and for a moment the world actually looks calm, as if there was no threat of war.

A world at peace. Unified.

Everything their company wants.

Sheena’s heartbeat slows. The green grass surrounding her blows in the wind, dancing, the cascading and receding sunlight painting it all in the oranges and pinks of the late afternoon. Birds sing their final goodbyes to the sun right before it retreats beyond the horizon and makes way for the moons instead. Sheena smiles, hums. Typical, undisturbed nature, following in its course as it’s supposed to do. The world spinning around the sun. It’s just a sunset, just an evening. Nothing new.

Except to the stolen Aegis standing to Sheena’s right, hands on his hips, vibrant red hair riding on the gusts of wind just as gracefully as the grass at his feet does.

Zelos takes in a loud, deep breath, holds it for a second before releasing it through his mouth. Sheena risks a glance at her companion, smile growing at the sight of the Aegis’ head slightly tipped back, eyes closed, grinning at the wind caressing his artificial skin. The easy glow of the crystal lodged into his chest makes her think of the sun.

But that’s not right. Even the sunset pales in comparison to how brilliantly Zelos’ crystal shines now, the ether lines on his body. Here, relaxed and happy, out of those facilities and cages shaped like mansions, away from people who wish to hurt him, free, free, _free._

“Well, I’ll be damned,” comes Zelos’ laugh, his barely-hidden mirth cutting through Sheena’s thoughts. She sees him smirk, look at her out of the corner of his eye. “This sight’s almost as gorgeous as I am.”

Sheena puts her everything into making her groan the loudest thing over the rustling of the grass in the wind. “Congrats on ruining the moment.”

“Improving the moment, you mean,” Zelos replies. Despite the headband that he carries his red hair still flutters uncontrollably against his face, and quickly a gloved hand flies up to hold it in place.

They fall into silence, again. It’s comfortable, familiar, safe. Something easy to get lost in, but something Sheena doesn’t want. She has much to say, so much on her mind. So; “It _is_ beautiful, though,” Sheena ventures.

And there’s a hum, amused, to her right. “The landscape, or yours truly?”

 _“Architect,_ you know what? Just forget it.”

Zelos' laughter has less of an edge to it these days, sounds more genuine than Sheena remembers it ever being. Vulnerable, bright, _happy._ Carried in the gentle winds, it fills her mind, her heart. He turns to look at her now, flapping his hand in mischievous dismissal, grinning a Cheshire cat’s grin that’s meant to tease. And to this Sheena _'hmph'_ s, turns her head back to the sunset. Her own grin remains on her face, though, playing along, enjoying the easy camaraderie that hangs in the air around them.

Even without a driver and blade’s emotion link, that little spark of amusement crackles between them just as easily. It always has. Zelos laughs again, then hums. The wind dies down just enough for him to let go of his hair, and instead Sheena hears the rustling of fabric as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” the Aegis whispers after a short while. “Honestly, I think I could get used to it.”

Sheena tucks the little breathless tremble in his voice into her heart, uses it to heal the little shake to it when she remembers exactly _why_ he hasn’t. Don’t think about it now, she tells herself. This isn’t the time. Instead her fondness for this moment presents itself in a confident grin she flashes just for him, a promise in her words.

“No kidding. But there’s even prettier sights than this one out there, believe it or not,” she says.

Zelos takes his time to reply, again. Sheena doesn’t blame him: he must be so lost in the sunset’s colours, in the sensation of being bathed in the warm glow of a star as he is. She lets him be, waits. A minute later Zelos drops his hands to his sides, then lowers himself to the ground so that he’s sitting next to Sheena, one leg tucked underneath him and another used as a resting spot for his arm.

His gloved fingers are digging into the dirt below, violet eyes focused on the task. “You better show me, then,” Zelos finally replies. “I want it all.”

Sheena looks away, crosses her arms over her knees to better cushion her chin. “We’ll see a lot more of them on our journey, for sure. So I guess sticking around with Colette and her group was a good idea in the end.” She smiles. “These people aren’t as bad as I thought they could be.”

Closer now that he’s sitting, it’s easier for Sheena to hear it when Zelos makes a sound between a hum and a sigh. “‘If I had my way, no one would use you as a weapon of destruction ever again’,” he recites. Sheena _hears_ his smirk, knows it’s there because Lloyd’s words are much too big in Zelos’ mouth. “‘I want to make the world better’. Where does he get such foolish, boundless optimism from, I wonder. What’s with this urge to go against the nature of the world?”

He pauses. The renewed sound of grass blowing in gentle wind fills the silence once more.

And then, “He’s completely mad. They’re idiots, the lot of them.”

Sheena turns to look at him at once. The brutal honesty with which he says it makes Sheena flinch, open her mouth—

“But I guess that’s kind of endearing, right?” he continues right away. Zelos’ smirk has left, and he plucks a few blades of grass from the ground, fiddles with them between his fingers, resolutely not looking at Sheena. “It’s pointless, but something about them makes you want to try. Makes you feel like maybe there’s more to you than what was already programmed into your being. Right?”

The heavy openness in his voice and presence next to her is like a weight on Sheena’s shoulders that she doesn’t know how to deal with. She drops her gaze back to the valleys beyond this mountain, over where the sun’s already left, where the darkness of night lies pooling at the bottom of the world. The sunset’s already receding. Zelos’ words echo in her brain, bouncing and intense, mingling with the memory of Lloyd’s promises after the two’s duel.

* * *

In the wake of Sheena’s failure, of every other candidate’s failure, the last desperate choice available is the one that finally clicks and correctly resonates with the Aegis.

There’s much celebration and praise after that, a lot of fussing over the Aegis as he awakens and forms, followed by tons of conferences and meetings and public gatherings to show off their precious little weapon’s return. The people are ecstatic. Sheena can’t stand it, but stuck to the blade’s side as she is, demoted to guard instead of driver, the only thing she can do is grit her teeth and do her best to get through it all. But the Aegis—Zelos—seems to soak up the attention anyway, all smirks and laughter, smugness wrapped around him like a king’s cape as he blows kisses to the nation that created him.

Sheena can’t stand it.

Sheena can’t stand _him_.

It’s infuriating, the way he treats everything like a joke, how he laughs in the face of a shaky war and tense politics even if his driver looks downright miserable through it. Some agents of Tethe’alla’s government debrief them on the current state of affairs, and all Zelos can do is shrug and chuckle, wink at them and be of no help whatsoever through the whole ordeal.

“It’s up to you humans,” he tells one of them after they address him, slumping against his seat with his arms behind his head, grin soft and eyes narrowed. “You lot are the bosses here, after all.”

Just the sound of his voice has Sheena gritting her teeth.

She stands further from the scene but leaning against the wall, arms crossed, Corrine tucked under her chin as she observes the proceedings. There’s no emotional link between them, but Corrine still reacts instantly to her quickened heartbeat and agitation, fur sticking up as they rub gently against her face to ease her anger. It snaps her out of it immediately. Shame pools in her stomach. In apology, she pets at the side of their face.

Corrine settles back down. Sheena offers them a smile, fond, for as long as she can maintain it before it falls.

She looks back to the scene before her, locks her brown eyes on the girl who awoke the Aegis, the one sitting next to Zelos, hands folded over her lap and posture ramrod straight—Seles Wilder, the reports said. Not that anyone so far has cared to call her by her name. The agents talk, and talk, and talk and talk and talk about the future of her partnership with Zelos as driver and blade, making choices for her, planning it all out as if she weren’t even there. She’s just a means to an end, they tell her. The public doesn’t even have to know she _exists._

They just need Zelos, they say. They just need him to do exactly as they tell him to do.

Disgust settles at the pit of her stomach, twists it with anger and indignation. This is ridiculous, Sheena thinks. Zelos can dance to their song of lies under their spotlight all he wants, can look and behave like the expensive doll they think him as. But it’s wrong, to expect the same of Seles, of a girl shoved into a role too big for her just because Sheena failed to fill in for her.

Seles is just a _child._

* * *

“Lloyd has a clear goal in mind. He has passion in his dream, and he has people to backup that passion,” Sheena’s words are carried by the air around them, quiet and private, yet just loud enough for Zelos to hear. Zelos still fiddles with the blades of grass. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react. So Sheena keeps her eyes on the darkening hills below, continues. “When you look at it that way,” she says, “it’s no wonder he makes it easier to believe in change.”

The wind blows, again, but with a lot less force than before. Within it Zelos snorts. The Aegis raises the hand holding the grass and opens his fingers, letting go of it and watching it flutter about in the current. It’s performative, Sheena knows. He’s always been one for theatrics.

“Suppose we manage to stop this Mithos guy, and he doesn’t destroy all of humanity,” Zelos begins, changing positions so that he’s leaning back on his hands, one leg stretched forward and the other bent still. He tilts his head slightly to look at Sheena, violet eyes searching her face for something Sheena’s not sure she can give.

With her full attention on him, Zelos continues. “We win the fight, yadda yadda, hooray for Aselia’s heroes. Everything is fine and dandy for like, a month, or something,” Zelos throws his head back, shrugs, “except Tethe’alla and Sylvarant are still very much at each other’s throats, completely uninterrupted and still ready to go to war, Mithos or not.”

It’s funny, in the most infuriating way, how Zelos’ voice is held steady as he speaks—as he usually is—in a rhythmical delivery of word after word meant to write a symphony of full composure and grace. He’s a performer at heart, a man on a stage, though it’s been long enough since he jumped away from the spotlight that Sheena could recognize that fake tilt to his voice any moment now, its familiarity offensive in the way it replaces his new and earlier, easygoing tone. Something is bothering him, she can tell. And how could it not, when the words he speaks are so close to reality, so close to the truth?

But Sheena doesn’t respond, for now. She has no words to do so. So, in her silence, Zelos grumbles under his breath, runs a hand through his hair. “We’ll be stopping a rogue Aegis, not the whole of humanity,” he notes, the little symphony hitting a lower note, something rumbling in his chest. “I mean, what happens when the people you save don’t even know they’re being saved? What then, hm? Will the world even know what we did?”

Sheena’s fingers curl into her sleeves, pulling, tightening, completing a circuit of anger in her veins. “Does that matter, so long as we do the right thing?”

A laugh, bitter like rotting ether and sharp like a knife. “It does matter, Sheena,” Zelos shoots back. “Because history isn’t written by the blissfully ignorant.”

* * *

The cheering of the public on the other side of the stage is nearly deafening, crowds of people delighted at the mere _sight_ of their artificial Aegis, their faith and morale restored by the return of their trump card against their neighbour. Because no longer is Tethe’alla cowering in Sylvarant’s shadow with a deactivated Aegis, no longer do they stand unequal in power. And with Zelos in the picture the political tension is here once more. To further nail the point home, they’ve taken Zelos and Seles on a tour through the country, showing _him_ off, a power move meant to put Sylvarant in its place.

Look at what we have back, the gesture says. Look at he who still holds your destiny in his hands.

It’s psychological warfare, in a way.

It makes Sheena sick.

Zelos stands out there on his own, laughing out loud and talking into the microphone way too fast, way too eagerly, trying to calm the masses to let him recite and continue some scripted speech he’s memorized five minutes before his entry. They obey, and he goes on. He directs the people’s attention like a director would an orchestra, words carefully chosen and sculpted to elicit the best responses from them all.

Doing as he’s told, doing what Tethe’alla wants.

Why?

She hears his laugh, again, off behind the stage and accompanied by all the hundreds gathered here just to see him. Fury boils in her veins. Sometimes Sheena wonders if the Aegis even cares about the state of the world, if he even realizes that the so-called peace the countries have is standing on shaky ground, threatened because of the Aegises’ mere existence. A nearly five hundred year old conflict still unresolved, one he carries on his shoulders, one he doesn’t really seem to care about fixing. He just laughs, Zelos. Tethe’alla’s Aegis, all he ever does is laugh.

And laugh.

And laugh.

Sheena shuts her eyes tight, trembling. He’s still laughing. Shut up, shut up, shut up shut up—

Then, to her left, she hears something else.

Sniffling, soft and meek, like it’s trying to stay hidden. A little sound of misery floating adrift in a sea of sick celebration. Sheena’s eyes snap open immediately, settle on the one other person here in backstage—on Seles Widler, sitting on a chair by the stage’s exit, head lowered and face obscured by her short red hair. She looks so small, curled into herself as she is. But even from this far, Sheena can see the trembling of her shoulders, the stray tears that fall on her clasped hands.

Worry, like a blade, pierces at Sheena and drains away her anger. Something overpowers her, and in its wake Sheena doesn’t think; she just steps forward, her scarred hand outstretched towards the girl. “Are you okay?” comes the question spilling out of her lips.

Her heart aches when Seles jumps at the sound of her voice, when her eyes widen and she stares at her in disbelief. Has she already gotten used to being ignored, being overlooked? Poor, poor girl. “You’re crying,” Sheena notes, one hand gesturing at her own cheek. “What’s wrong?”

It’s such a stupid question to ask, really. Sheena already knows what’s wrong.

Or, at least, that was what she thought.

The laughter and cheering from outside are mere white noise once the two of them make eye contact. Seles stares at her guard for a few seconds, violet eyes locked with Sheena’s brown, her face scrunched up in a misery that, the more Sheena looks, doesn’t seem to be right. It’s an older, heavier anguish that settles over her face like a mask, something heartbreaking like a lifetime’s worth of pain. It doesn’t belong on a child’s expression. It’s breathtaking, for all the wrong reasons. It makes Sheena’s skin crawl, her heart catch in her throat.

Slowly, while hiccuping, Seles shakes her head. “No, it’s not me,” she confesses in a small voice, something private for their little bubble. “I just can’t make it stop.”

Realization hits Sheena all at once, feels like being doused in cold water.

Even if Sheena may not be a driver, she is still not a fool. She’s read up on blade-driver bonds all her life with a fake, childish hope in her chest that lead her studies, has met enough drivers to understand the way things work. Emotions are relayed back and forth between driver and blade naturally, like blood pumping through veins, a bond meant to help them work together and better understand one another in and out of battle. It’s the natural order of things, after all—the way things are, the way things have always been. There’s no driver-blade pair out there without this system in place.

She should’ve guessed the Aegis—that Zelos wouldn’t be exempt to this rule.

_Oh, no. No no no—_

That laughter from the stage, again, a final round of cheering as Zelos says his goodbyes and blows his trademark kisses to the air. The curtains begin to close. It’s right then that Seles’ weeping wins her over again with renewed force, and she shuts her eyes tight against the wave of intruding emotion, taking deep breaths to try and stabilize herself. Sheena watches her break with an anguish that isn’t hers, feels sick as each of Seles’ sobs and the sound of Zelos’ approaching footsteps on the staircase twist at her heart with shame.

Sometimes Sheena wonders if the Aegis even cares about the state of the world.

The horror that settles in her when Zelos calls out Seles’ name, the first time Sheena hears anyone but herself do it, when she realizes the world never cared about the state of their Aegises—it feels like lead in her veins.

* * *

Time rots everything—even hope.

Now nearing the five hundred year mark, Tethe’alla and Sylvarant’s Great War still sees no signs of stopping, neither side ready nor willing to yield. It’s come to the point where nobody even knows what started this war anymore, or _why_ it’s important, or _why_ it’s even lasted this long—the people just know that it is a war that _must_ be won, and that it must be won with the power of the Aegises. For in the old records lay some vague mentions of the original set, tales describing their power as mighty and frightening to humanity’s ancestors, power maybe rivaling that of the Architect.

Power instantly weaponized and used against their will.

How much the war effort suffered when Martel was lost, and then despaired when Mithos soon disappeared off the map as well. Zelos and Colette are but a shadow of that power, mere man-made replicas attempting to recreate the divine. The proof of humanity’s desire to play god, their only reasoning to continue this stupid, senseless war.

The peak of humanity’s folly, their hubris. It is the blind leading the blind.

Neither of them deserved this.

A sigh escapes Sheena’s mouth, clipped. It’s so much darker now, the sun already gone and giving way to the last few rays of light in the sky, a mirage left behind in the wake of its departure. The darkness grows around them, but Zelos’ warm glow paints the two of them with its bright orange, as if competing against the last bits of daylight, as if silently daring the darkness to snuff him out too.

In the calm of night and bathed by his light, Sheena tries to understand, to the best of her ability, the fears that have plagued Zelos’ heart from birth. The second Great War is just one pointless conflict for the sake of conflict, remaining even after Kratos had already put a stop to the first one. It is a power play inherited by an innocent generation, fought for and by a pair of Aegises that never even _asked_ to be made.

It makes her skin crawl, her blood boil, the scar on her right hand burn, and for a second she wonders if this comes even _close_ to how Zelos and Colette must feel. No wonder he’s so hesitant, so afraid of the political fallout that’s to come. Before Lloyd, before Colette, Zelos’ life was a waking nightmare.

Everything Tethe’alla’s Aegis has known is the war.

Everything Zelos and Colette have ever known has been the war.

It’s what they were born into, after all.

It’s what they were _born for._

_No._

Passion and anger that grasp for each other’s hands in her chest, the loud indignation at a horrid and unjust world she desperately wants to see changed making Sheena grip at her sleeves until her knuckles go white. Lloyd’s words are sharp and bright in her memory, repeated over and over like the bang of a gong, shaking her bones and constricting her lungs. A mantra to keep her looking forward, shaping her frustrations into a goal in front of her to achieve.

 _(“I don’t just want to stop Mithos, I want to make the world_ better _.”)_

“We’ll _make_ them see,” Sheena says, the fire in her heart rising up her throat and escaping through her words as thick smoke. Her hands are shaking. “Because we’re a group of blades and humans traveling together, working as a team. I mean, Kratos Aurion himself is fighting alongside us—a _war hero!”_ Sheena laughs, delighted and manic. “There is no way that’s not going to attract the people’s attention, Zelos. They have _no choice_ but to look our way!”

She’s not surprised when Zelos doesn’t reply. But she wants to include him in her outburst, in the eruption of her frustration, and so Sheena turns to look at her old charge. She feels a little winded when she finds him gaping at her, eyes wide in that little vulnerable look he gains only when truly taken by surprise, a rare sight that she’s only witnessed a handful of times.

It gives her the courage to keep going, grin faltering for a second as her eyes flicker to his core crystal, to the ether lines on his exposed skin. “I’m not a blade, Zelos. I’m not even a proper driver,” she says, grimacing. “I’m just a human with an ether deficiency, but I was once yours and Seles’ guard. You may be a blade, but I can still be your shield.”

Zelos stays silent as she speaks. The vulnerable look from before slowly disappears off his face, replaced with an unreadable expression as he slumps again, shoulders visibly relaxing. It’s darker, now, the sun finally gone and making way for the night, and within it the Aegis glows bright, a familiar sight for Sheena. It somehow succeeds in calming her.

She looks away from him, off to the skies. “And I know humanity seems hopeless, Zelos. I _know._ But if Lloyd, Botta, Seles and I exist, then—then maybe someone else out there will see us, and maybe they’ll fight alongside us when the time comes.” Sheena shuts her eyes, hides her face in her arms. “Once this is all over, they _will_ know our names.”

* * *

The pitter patter of raindrops against the cool glass is a grounding sound against the sea of frustration and disappointment that push and pull at Sheena’s heart from within. She sits on the window seat adjacent to it and rests her head against the wet glass, taking in the sight of Meltokio’s cityscape under the grey light of the sunlight filtered through the storm. Corrine sleeps soundly on her lap, breathing deeply. Sheena absently pets at their fur. Whereas the sound of rain helps her focus and achieve mental neutrality, it has always been more of a lullaby for Corrine.

Movement, in front of her, in the shape of a gloved hand running through short, red hairs. Brown eyes risk a glance at the other person awake in this room, at her charge, and finds Tethe’alla’s Aegis petting at his driver’s hair as she sleeps, her head comfortably pillowed on his lap.

What a sight this is, Sheena thinks. Were it not for the glowing core crystal on Zelos’ chest, with the rest of their physical attributes and with them settled together like this, Sheena could almost mistake blade and driver for siblings.

But.

Low thunder cracks in the distance as Sheena observes them silently. Zelos’ violet eyes are settled on Seles and Seles only, the stoic look in his face betrayed only by sporadic twitches to his eyes, his lips. It looks unnatural, on him, and that’s because it is. As the Aegis’ guard Sheena has seen the weight of exhaustion take its toll on Seles, all these tours and meetings and events draining her even as she remains hidden from the world’s eye. It’s no wonder that even her dreams are restless.

It’s disgusting. She’s just a child, Sheena thinks for what seems to be the millionth time this month alone. Seles should be doing literally anything else other than shouldering an entire country’s future on her shoulders—

A sudden snort catches her attention. “I’ve never had a driver this young,” Zelos says in a low voice, and with a soft gasp and a warm feeling on her cheeks Sheena realizes she’s turned her head to stare at the both of them at some point, and that he’s noticed. “I mean, _I’m_ used to this, this kind of rhythm where you just have to keep constantly moving with the flow, but Seles is definitely not. No wonder she’s so damn tired.”

Zelos’ tone is conversational, as if inviting her to join him in his musings, but the precarious professionalism of her role keeps Sheena silent for a few minutes still. She rests her eyes on the storm outside again, pets at Corrine, sighs. In her chest a battle between her desire to know more about this odd pair and her need to keep her job commences.

Seles whines in her sleep. Her discomfort is reflected in Zelos’ sudden flinch. He pets at her hair, again, humming. In the end Sheena’s outrage wins her over, says, “She shouldn’t even have to go through it at all.”

“Nobody should,” comes a little murmur that’d be so easy to catch with how buried under the rain’s sound it is. But before she can comment on it there comes a louder chuckle, a slump of freckled shoulders. “But, well,” Zelos says, higher pitched and teasing, “that’s the glamorous life that comes with resonating with an Aegis. We’re kind of like celebrities, you know? She’s going to have to adapt to it.”

Something in his tone ignites a specific fire in Sheena’s veins that only Zelos knows how to light. “It’s not _her_ fault she’s stuck with _you,”_ she blurts out.

A careless little shrug. “Yeah yeah, I know. She was a last-ditch attempt to wake me up after a certain little incident killed my last driver.” Sharp violet eyes settle on again Sheena, and under their sudden weight Sheena can barely suppress a startled jump. “Not to mention,” he adds, smirk growing, gaze hardening, _“_ that a little bird told me that _you_ were part of the original list of failed candidates before her, Sheena Fujibayashi.”

Her blood runs cold. “That’s—”

She shuts her mouth immediately.

The Aegis’ judging, hard gaze is heavy and painful to bear, but bear it Sheena must. Once upon a time Sheena had wanted nothing more than to see what the Aegis was like with her own two eyes, to be able to see just how rotten Tethe’alla’s weapon really was. It’s only now that she’s finally here as his guard that she realizes how all along she’d been angry at a caged bird singing a prisoner’s song.

And in the end Zelos is right to judge, to hate; Sheena’s failed attempt at resonating with him is the _entire reason_ why Seles is here in the first place. Sheena has no right to be mad.

The fire dies down in her heart, replaced with cold guilt and oppressive shame.

If only she could’ve—

Deep breaths, slow and steady, filling her lungs and clearing her mind. She pets at Corrine, more to comfort herself than anything else. One, two. In, out. Sheena looks out the window, exhales loudly, with finality etched into the action. “Guess you’re right,” is what in the end she grumbles, feeling defeated.

Another clap of thunder resonates somewhere from outside, followed by a heavy, suffocating silence that spreads in the room like ice. Sheena can’t stand it. Everything in her body urges her to run away from it, but her job dictates that she _can’t._

It’s cut in half when Zelos starts chuckling.

She blinks. The Aegis’ guard glances at Tethe’alla’s weapon through her peripheral vision again, nearly scowling. She finds Zelos looking down at Seles, petting at her hair, smiling one of his trademark little smiles. What the hell was that, Sheena thinks, is he making fun of her? She’s not in the mood for this anymore. At all. This is not the time for the Aegis to do what he does best and just _laugh_ in the face of despair.

But something else catches her attention as he laughs. The sound of it is off, somehow, as is his smile. It’s softer than the grins he offers the masses, more resigned than the smirks he gives his creators. The sight of it makes Sheena shiver.

It just looks wrong on his face.

It feels wrong to be able to read all of that at all.

Zelos speaking disconnects her from her thoughts. “You’re bonded to an artificial blade,” the Aegis says, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall behind him. Sheena tenses immediately, grips at Corrine a little tighter, grateful when they don’t stir on her lap. Zelos’ smile twitches slightly. “Lookie here… there’s an ether deficiency in your system. I can feel it.”

Brown eyes blink, confused. Sheena turns to look at him fully, an eyebrow raised. “Excuse me?”

“There’s very little ether in your veins, and it is aimless. It doesn’t flow properly.” Tethe’alla’s Aegis opens his eyes and takes in her expression. “Don’t be surprised, now,” he adds, offers her a wink as he raises his hand and taps at the orange crystal on his chest. “I’m an _Aegis,_ honey—being aware of ether is just one of the many great and amazing things that I just _do._ And It’s not like your condition is anything special, anyway,” he shrugs. “I’ve met other humans like you in the past.”

Sheena scowls. She takes a second to say anything, trying with all her might not to be offended by his stupid, dismissive tone. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s got everything to do with everything,” Zelos laughs, looking out the window, going back to running his fingers through Seles’ hair.

“Really, now.”

“You’re bonded to an artificial blade,” Zelos repeats, nodding at Corrine. He sets his eyes on Sheena again, and once again his gaze is cold, piercing, calculating and distant. Yet something hides within those eyes, something Sheena can’t read. “I’ve read your file, you know? You’ve been paired up with them for a very, very long time, now. Lasted _way_ past your blade’s expiration date, they say. And that’s just one of the many charming points you put down in your resume.” Then he smirks, dark and dangerous. “You must be something special, hm?”

At the back of Sheena’s throat comes a choked sound that’s stuck between a grunt and a growl. Zelos’ gaze now grows so intense that she has to look away. How he manages to wear so many different expressions Sheena doesn’t know, but even if it makes her feel uneasy she still holds her ground, staring out at the storm again while resting her hand on Corrine’s head.

“Your point being?” Sheena finds her voice.

Laughter, again. But it’s lighter, somehow more at ease than the previous one. Just like that the suffocating tension in the air is gone. But then his face crystalizes once again, an expression leaking through the cracks that Sheena still can’t dissect. “Ah, look, darling— _you_ figure it out,” he adds. “You’ve made it _this_ far, after all, yeah?”

“Hmph.”

Rain still falls quietly outside, enveloping them both. It’s getting darker. Zelos’ words are carried in a tone different than what Sheena’s heard before, a vocal package left at her mercy for her to open and try to understand. It makes her anxious, somehow, because unlike Zelos Sheena isn’t used to dancing to a rhythm of lies masked as truths and truths masked as lies. Try as she may Sheena can’t guess what it is that’s on his mind.

So she stares, locks her eyes with the Aegis’, trying to find the answer in their eternal violet reflecting the orange ether hues of his crystal—

A groan, soft. Seles begins to stir on Zelos’ lap.

In silent agreement between Aegis and guard, with the girl’s awakening their conversation abruptly ends.

* * *

Sheena takes a deep breath, holds it, counts to five and back. Her outburst hangs heavy in the air, a delicate-yet-tense little silence settling in-between guard and blade that feels like it will keep them miles apart if left unresolved. It’s uncomfortable, unfair. She nearly wilts under its weight, under the realization that she’s the only one to blame for it, that this silence like dying embers of a fire is probably only worse on Zelos than it is on her.

But she refuses to give into guilt’s shackles.

Because Sheena Fujibayashi wouldn’t be who she is—wouldn’t be _where_ she is—if she let anything stop her, and the people she loves wouldn’t be safely out of the Tethe’allan government’s hands had she given in to despair. She will not regret her words, no matter how guilty she may feel of how hot her newfound hope may burn to someone who rightfully fears it so much. And it’s a hope that burns stronger each day that passes, because if there’s one thing that Colette’s companions have done for her—that her own _driver_ has done—is reignite that lost spark in her that believes that maybe, just maybe, the world cares more than she ever could’ve imagined.

So let them be the proud banner blowing in the wind that instigates revolution, let their fire spread until it consumes it all and the world is regenerated like a phoenix from its ashes.

Nothing can stand in their way.

Zelos moves again, snapping Sheena out of her feverish reverie and getting her to raise her head slightly, if only to take him in for what he has in store next. After all, her charge isn’t one to waste time in anything if it doesn’t serve a purpose, and even when he has nothing to say, Zelos always finds a way to get a point across if he must.

Neither moon has risen into the skies just yet, but the stars shine in their absence, sparkling to the beat of the universe’s heartbeat. He sighs loudly and sits back. Long curls of red hair cascades off his shoulders as Zelos looks up to take in the skies above, smile and gaze softened considerably from his earlier apprehension, reflecting the heavenly light. He could almost fool Sheena with how at peace he seemingly looks, were it not for the years that weigh down that expression anyway, the experience Sheena has picking apart the flaws on the Aegis’ masks.

Zelos makes no move to look at her. Sheena gets the feeling that he won’t. She doesn’t mind, though, because she knows that he will speak instead when he decides to hum low. “You hold many hopes for what’s basically the rewriting of society as we know it,” he says. “It’s adorable.”

Blood boiling, growl stuck behind her throat, Sheena raises her head out of her arms, glaring at her companion. “What, you think we can’t fucking do it?!”

“Hey, hey,” Zelos instantly defends himself, both hands raised and displayed before him in some sort of peace gesture. The expression on his face seems mostly sincere, so Sheena still glares, though not as feverishly as before—mostly, now it’s just there for show. To play along with some rhythm only the two of them know. “I know that, now that we’re free, you’d punch even the Architect to get your way.”

He gets a scoff for his troubles as Sheena looks away. “Quit patronizing me, Zelos.”

“But I’m totally not!” Tethe’alla’s Aegis chuckles, one hand coming up to gesture in front of him. “Didn’t you know? You have my full support and trust, oh loyal guard of mine.”

“I wish you would regard the rest of our party with it, too,” Sheena mumbles.

Thankfully, Zelos catches it. He gasps dramatically, and Sheena doesn’t have to look at him to know that gesturing hand is now up sitting on his chest. A snort escapes her lips the second she realizes that. Look at them dance, she thinks, already trapped in and swinging to that rhythm from before, years of routine and hard-earned comfort blowing away any traces of Sheena’s earlier outburst.

Zelos’ pout paints his tone. “What, you think I don’t trust them?”

“Well, taking it that far might be a little unfair,” she says, now turning back to look at Zelos with glinting eyes. He really _is_ pouting, unsurprisingly, though it’s quickly wiped off his face when Sheena adds, “Because you sure do trust your driver, huh?”

“Wha—Hey!”

Sheena laughs.

It’s a loud and roaring laugh that drowns out the undignified squeak that comes out of Zelos’ throat, a laugh that’s carried through the soft wind current that picks up as the stars shine. It’s a laugh that releases the tensions still clinging to Sheena’s lungs as she finally raises her own head up to the sky, mirth on her cheeks burning against the growing cold of night. It’s alright, she knows. Zelos will be alright. She did mean it, after all—because if Lloyd’s group is teaching Sheena how to hope, then at least they’re also teaching Zelos how to trust.

They’ve got a lot to learn from each other, then. She wonders, absently, if the bond between driver and blade facilitates it at least, if it already has something to do with Zelos’ quickly changing attitude and outlooks.

She wonders if…

If any of that could’ve happened much, much earlier, if only Sheena had resonated with him when she was supposed to.

A wistful feeling escapes her in a sigh, latches onto that tension still rising in the air, brings it back over Sheena like a cloud of regrets she’d thought she’d left behind many years ago. It makes her fingers clench against her sleeves again in frustration. There’s too many what-ifs in that cloud, too many ‘if only’s. If only she could’ve resonated with the Aegis. If only she could’ve spared Seles. If only she wasn’t a fucking failure of a candidate, if only the ether in her system flowed properly and in the right amounts, if only, if only, if only if only if only—

“Sheena,” Zelos calls. He sets a hand on her shoulder and startles her out of scowling at the sky—something she doesn’t even remember doing. “Are you okay?”

It happens suddenly, an action born out of the guilt of the past taking hold of her. Without putting too much thought on it Sheena looks down at her palm, at one of many reminders of her biggest failure she has seared on her body.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t resonate with you when I was supposed to, Zelos,” she mumbles.

“Oh.”

Regretfully, the Aegis catches it, and so his guard cringes.

Once again, she doesn’t have to look at him to know where his eyes are resting—it’s too obvious. She curses and quickly hides her right hand. Bringing attention to the Aegis crystal-shaped scar now, even if without thinking, feels like a low blow to deal to the one person who caused it in the first place.

A sigh, from her greatest friend. It’s much too heavy to pass for casual. “So that’s it.”

Sheena breathes out a much quieter laugh. “Sorry.”

“Architect, stop apologizing already,” Zelos commands. It gets Sheena’s attention back on him, and he instantly turns away from it, that free hand from before now rubbing at the back of his neck as he keeps his eyes on the sky, the discomfort radiating off him like an uncomfortable heat. “Ugh, just… Seriously, Sheena, it pisses me off how often you sell yourself short.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing an awful job at it,” Sheena says through a snort.

“Yet you’re laughing,” her charge points out.

“Hmph.”

A pause. Sheena knows it would’ve turned into another silence, were it not for Zelos’ groan through grit teeth chasing it away before it can even settle. “Look,” he continues, “the point is, that’s in the past, now. None of us have any way of knowing anything hidden behind a ‘what if’, so stop putting so much weight on your shoulders. Things worked out differently in the end, but at least they _worked out.”_

The sincerity coating Zelos’ words is a rarity, yet not uncomfortable, almost feeling gentle as he carelessly tosses it to Sheena. It’s his own way of opening up without really doing so, Sheena knows. She still stares, for a moment, a small smile coming her way.

She decides to test the waters. “You… think so?”

“I mean, I _know_ that neither me nor Seles would be here were it not for you,” Zelos whispers. Pause, again. He does eventually smile back, at least, even if he shrugs. “One way or another, you still played your part.”

A memory comes to Sheena’s mind, then, echoes of a time that now seems so far away and tainted with dusty despair, five words she can now flip on their axis and give them a new meaning. She wonders, for a moment, if Zelos still has that negative association with them, if he will react badly to hearing them echoed back to him this way. But, then again—that’s in the past now, right?

So.

In the end, she decides to take the shot. “Whatever will be, will be, huh?"

To her delight, Zelos smirks. And then—“Hey, _that’s_ pretty good,” he laughs. “Hope you don’t mind me stealing your own phrase for my own personal use.”

Wait.

No.

That’s wrong, something in Sheena’s mind screams.

She blinks. That’s not how this goes. His tone is too easygoing, too light, his word choice too detached for what she’s just referenced, and—that’s not how any of this goes. The easy grin on her face falls and shatters on the soil. The blood running in Sheena’s veins grows cold suddenly, slows down to a crawl, a concoction several of emotions mixing into one powerful, sick feeling at the pit of her stomach.

Zelos watches, as Sheena slowly cracks. He watches her sit upright and search his face with wide brown eyes, mouth agape as she struggles to find which question roaring in her mind she wants to voice first.

Because this is wrong, because something here is wrong—

“Hey, you good?” Zelos beats her to the punch. He reaches for her shoulder slowly, almost tentatively, an awkward laugh on his lips. “Geez, it’s just a phrase. But, well, I mean, if you want me to credit it to you every time I use it, I—”

Terror gripping at her body, Sheena catches the Aegis by the wrist before he can even reach her shoulder. Her charge yelps and pulls back, but Sheena holds him still, tight enough to feel the ether pumping under his skin.

She searches his face again, words spilling out of her mouth before she can even stop them. “It’s not giving up so much as it is accepting everything for what it really is,” she blurts out. Zelos frowns and blinks at her, but otherwise doesn’t react. No, no. That’s wrong. Sheena grits her teeth, the realization of what’s going on here resounding like a gong through her mind, growing louder and louder the more the Aegis fails to give her the reaction she expects, that she wants.

It’s infuriating. It’s driving her mad. If this is some kind of sick joke, she’s going to beat him senseless for it. Architect, she _wants_ it to be a joke. Desperation has her try again, say, “Everyone in this room is just a means to an end.”

But Zelos doesn’t react.

_No._

_No no no..._

She draws a sharp breath and releases the Aegis as if he had once again burned her.

Oh, _Architect._

Breathing gets difficult, under the constricting weight of horror that crawls up Sheena’s spine and grips at her lungs, the sudden rush of blood in her ears and head causing her to sway slightly. That same sick feeling in her stomach becomes nauseous grief, pulls Sheena’s hands over her mouth. Stubborn, hot tears sting in her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. Oh, Architect. How the hell did this happen?

 _What_ happened?

Sheena watches, through her heartache, as the mask Zelos wears finally breaks. She watches as he lets defeat and resignation pull his lips upwards in a bitter smile, as he turns away from his guard and his forehead meets his open palm. Orange light from his crystal illuminates that smile, even if his red hair partially hides his face and eyes like yet another barrier going up between them.

"No point hiding it from you any longer, then,” Zelos says, his other hand rising up to rest on his core crystal. His voice is so cold, so far away. It almost feels as if they had just met. “Just… please, don't tell anyone else.”

* * *

A rush of a breeze trailing behind her as she rushes through the hall.

Footsteps loud on the marble glass of the estate, like a warning sign of the barely-restrained storm brewing in her system. The bell around her blade’s neck chiming in the silence as they run after her.

Dread in her veins, rage in her throat, fear in her lungs.

A mission heavy on her shoulders and a duty clinging to her heart.

Sheena runs.

She runs even though it’s inappropriate to do so in an expensive guvernamental palace such as this, runs to reunite with the two people that her meeting with her superiors has momentarily pried her apart from. She runs while ignoring the burning in her eyes, with grit teeth at the indignation of her role and position, the instructions she’s received resounding over and over and over in her mind like a curse.

_‘Our spies report that Sylvarant has lost its Aegis to a renegade. It’s the perfect time to strike. Your mission, then, is to go to Sylvarant and retrieve her dormant crystal. Kill her driver if you must.’_

Dormant and ready to swap for their fake when she awakens, because for some reason Sylvarant’s Aegis has always been the more interesting option of the two artificials to her superiors, a source of untapped energy and power that Tethe’alla has always wanted to make use of. Besides, take her away and what is Sylvarant left with? Nothing to defend themselves, nothing to attack with, no hope left for their people. They want her alive, with no driver, ready to deploy into that Architect-forsaken cannon they keep threatening Zelos with.

Sheena’s heartbeat speeds up, enraged. It’s sickening. Just because she’s the enemy’s Aegis doesn’t give Tethe’alla the right to treat her like this, to expect this of her. Doesn’t give them the right to toss Zelos aside like he’s a puppet whose role has ended.

(But what can she do, when faced with all this? Delivering a blade to the slaughterhouse while simultaneously sealing her charge’s—her _best friend’s_ _fate—_ )

Fraction by fraction her anger ebbs away the closer she gets to her destination, her maddened dash slowing down to a jog and then a quickened walk as she approaches the room Zelos and Seles have been temporarily allocated to. The light of the early afternoon sun filtering through the tall windows of the hallway is reflected on the pristine floors, blinding and powerful in intensity.

It’s peaceful, all the way here. Quiet. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else in this wing of the estate other than Sheena, Corrine, and her two charges. She wonders what they must be doing. Because in blissful ignorance forgotten and for now left to their own devices, Aegis and Driver have a moment of silence to themselves.

Sheena feels guilt stab at her heart, then, for interrupting it all when she reaches their room and pushes herself inside.

Corrine jumps off her shoulder, runs over to Zelos and settles on his lap. “There you are,” the Aegis speaks first, smirking, looking at his guard out of the corner of his eye. He sits still by the window, obediently unmoving for his driver to better run a brush down long, cascading red locks. “What took you so long, huh? We thought you’d been eaten alive by government officials.”

Seles hums, nods. She does not take her eyes off her work. “We wouldn’t have known if they did. They wouldn’t have left any evidence,” she adds. “We would’ve quietly gotten a new guard instead, no questions asked. But maybe we would’ve found her bones if we dug deep enough in the kitchens, though.”

A rare, awkward laugh from Zelos. _“Architect,_ Seles, I didn’t mean that literally.”

The smile that comes to Sheena’s face is gentle, as she watches the exchange between them, so easy and almost sweet to witness.

For a moment, just for now, the weight of the world eases off her shoulders just a little. If she tries hard enough, then maybe she can pretend. She can make believe that Seles and Zelos are simply siblings that she’s decided to watch over, that she and her charges are free of the world’s cruelty, of politics and war.

It would be so easy, to lose herself in a fantasy. So easy to pretend they’re free.

But.

Discomfort crawls up her spine and causes her to go rigid again, wipes the smile off her face. The weight is set back on her shoulders. Sheena crosses her arms over her chest, watches Seles chuckling and Zelos petting at Corrine’s fur.

The Aegis’ smirk is gone, Sheena notices. He’s looking at her out of the corner of his eye, violet gaze calculating and frozen over with that look Sheena knows he only gains when something is bothering him. Sheena almost shrinks under the weight of his stare. It’s almost uncanny, in a way, how Zelos is more deathly serious and observant all the damn time than most give him credit for.

Her reverie is cut short when a tighter smirk replaces the last on Zelos’ face. “So what’d they want with you? Any fancy new policies they’re reviewing, or about to implement? More touring?” Zelos calls, still petting Corrine, still acting the part. “Actually, please tell me it’s touring. I’m losing my mind locked in here.”

“I could do with a lot less touring, myself,” Seles grumbles after a short pause in her brushing.

A laugh from the Aegis, sardonic. “It’s a lot better than boring government meetings and military reports, though!”

“Doesn’t make it the better alternative.”

Zelos huffs again, makes a big show out of appearing displeased and wounded by his driver’s attitude. Seles brushes with a lot less vigor now, just as bothered, yet seemingly less familiar with the intricacies of the masks Zelos has already mastered to hide them with.

It’s uncomfortable to see. Sheena closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, opens them to step forward into the room with quick, long strides, dread in her veins as she feels her two charges’ eyes follow her movements. She ignores them, stops by the window to look out into the scenery outside, take in the clear blue skies beyond the greenery of the estate’s gardens.

As expected of a place like this, the sights are just gorgeous. Idyllic, friendly, sweet. Straight from a painting.

Just another mask.

“Well?” Zelos presses, somewhere from behind Sheena.

Sheena sighs through her nose. Her hands held behind her back, she straightens up and says the truth: “Sylvarant’s Aegis was stolen.”

“...Oh.”

Silence falls, right after that. Zelos’ voice is but a whisper in an otherwise deadly silent room. It feels wrong, tightens a rope of something unbearably painful around Sheena’s heart. “She was last seen in the Flanoir region, resting in the city with two other men as her escorts before they went up the mountain,” Sheena adds before Zelos can get anything else in. She gestures with one hand, still staring out the window at the flowing grass. “I’m… the plan is to send _me_ to retrieve her—”

There’s a gentle thud echoing in the air as the brush hits the carpeted floor.

“You can’t do that,” Seles says, harshly enough that Sheena has to turn around to look at her, eyes wide. “You _can’t.”_

The driver of Tethe’alla’s Aegis steps towards her, hands balled into fists. Sheena reflexively takes a step back. Behind the girl, she catches it when Zelos’ carefully blank expression twitches as he stands, Corrine on his shoulder, snappy restlessness from Seles sneaking under his veins.

Sheena’s hands come up before her in a peaceful gesture. “I’m sorry,” Sheena says, still as gently as she can despite the despair and fire in her stomach eating away at her from within. The moment when Seles’ heart drops is visible in her face. It hurts. Sheena drops her hands, shakes her head. “Orders are orders, but I—”

Seles’ growl is a small, choked sound at the back of her throat. “You’re not like us, Sheena. You can refuse—”

The words die in her mouth as a gloved hand settles on her shoulder. “No, she can’t,” Zelos’ voice is tangled with a breathy laugh. Seles’ attention is on him in a second. He shrugs with his free shoulder, eyes closed and smiling, humming. “Why do you think they want _her_ to do it, Seles? Because she’s a tool. With Sheena’s ether deficiency in play, they _know_ she can’t awaken an Aegis, and therefore, she’s useful.” His eyes are set on Sheena when he opens them, empty smile widening. “Everyone in this room is just a means to an end.”

Sheena grits her teeth, the truth stinging worse coming from someone she’s come to love than it had hurt coming from some uninterested bureaucrat.

“Zelos,” Sheena warns.

“And she _can’t_ refuse,” Zelos ignores her, pushing past his driver to stand face to face with his guard, “because the people in charge here already know every weakness there is to know about our dear guard, and how best to exploit it.” His eyes dangerously squint. “It’s too late to back out now, isn’t it, Fujibayashi?”

Impulsively, Sheena shoves him with enough force to send him stumbling back a few steps, Corrine instantly jumping off Zelos’ shoulder and jumping over to Seles instead.

And she stumbles, catching the small blade in her hands. “Sheena!” Seles shouts.

“I can’t refuse the order, but I can—and I _will_ —find another way to execute it,” their guard counters, words shaking in her newfound anger and hurt as she stabs an accusatory finger to the Aegis’ chest. “That’s why it _has_ to be me.”

A laugh, bitter and deep, dripping with venomous acid. Zelos slaps her hand away. “Don’t be fucking stupid, Sheena,” he snaps. “You’d have more luck trying to awaken a blade than changing fate.”

It’s sudden, the pain in Sheena’s heart. Sudden, deep, and sharp. It makes her stagger back. Seles gasps and rushes over to her blade’s side, already stuttering with apologies, with disbelief written in her eyes and voice. The second the words leave her mouth, Sheena sees Zelos falter, breath hitching and eyes widening a fraction of a second as if he were just now coming back to his senses—as if he hadn’t even seen _Sheena_ standing there, mentally replacing her with something else, someone else, letting years of abuse coil around him like a taut wire, then snap and strike back like a weapon.

She recognizes the behaviour. It comes back to her in flashes, her first meeting with Corrine replaying over and over in her mind, except now it’s Zelos standing there looking like a cornered animal, like any other terrified blade who knows what his purpose is.

Except his fate is one he cannot escape as easily as any other blade can.

The Aegis was not built to have a choice.

Hands balling into fists at her sides, Sheena grits her teeth, blinks away a stubborn burn behind her eyes. Because even if she understands, even if she doesn’t want to shove blame into a victim’s hands, the damage is done.

She lets anger colour her words, lead her body as she bumps a fist against her chest, resolute. “Well call me a fucking idiot, then, because I can’t just stand by and do _nothing._ I’m not going to let them replace you. There’s”—her voice cracks, and she hisses—”there has to be _something_ I can do!”

Zelos tenses. He looks away to the window, visibly defeated, the heavy frustration emanating from Aegis and guard choking them both like a thick smoke hanging in the air after a fire has gone out.

He makes a sound at the back of his throat. “You cannot avoid this. Our positions won’t allow it. There is _nothing_ we can do.”

“Bull-fucking-shit, Zelos. There’s always a way.”

Violet eyes glare, again, though there’s no anger behind them. Just crystal clear exhaustion. Slowly, Zelos taps at his crystal. “Sylvarant’s Aegis is rumoured to have a direct connection to the original,” he snorts, voice empty, yet annoyed like it’s all stupidly, blindingly obvious. “In comparison, I’m just a trophy. You see the logic here, don’t you?”

Defeat spills out of Sheena in the shape of stray, hot tears. She wipes at them hastily, growling under her breath refusing, _rejecting_ defeat, straightening up as if to dare destiny bring her down. _“Don’t_ tell me to give up,” Sheena snaps. ”Don’t you dare.”

Their eyes meet. Cold violet meets vibrant brown, resignation meets defiance. Two forces push against each other in that single stare.

And Tethe’alla’s Aegis does what he does best.

He laughs. It’s a breathy, panicky little sound that bubbles out of his chest, each chuckle grating at Sheena’s nerves, squeezing at her heart the further he steps forward to meet his guard halfway. He raises a gloved hand, gently wipes at her tears with one finger. Sheena recoils from his touch. Combined with his laughter, with the weight of the world crashing down on them all, the smile he offers feels more like an invitation to his own execution.

“It’s not giving up, so much as it is accepting everything for what it is. Because despite everything we’re all just a means to an end,” Zelos sighs, smiling. He drops his hand, walks off over to the window to stand with his back to Sheena, gesturing lazily over his shoulder with both hands. “Whatever will be, will be.”

Something in Sheena’s bloodstream snaps.

She doesn’t know when it is that she runs out of the room, Corrine uselessly calling out her name over the ringing of their bell as she rushes all the way out of the estate. Sheena runs until her lungs can’t take no more, until her legs give out under her and she collapses on the grass, until the idyllic scene outside gets tinted with the reds and oranges of the setting sun in the horizon, warmth bleeding into the lands as the sky darkens around her.

Time flows, life goes on.

The world continues on, uncaring of her plight.

It’s unfair.

Her mission hangs heavy around her shoulders, the weight of two artificial lives entrusted to her as their jury and executioner. Find Sylvarant’s Aegis, kill her driver, bring her back to a destiny filled with pain as a weapon. Seal Zelos’ fate as an object whose role is nearing its end. Sylvarant or Tethe’alla. One Aegis for another. It’s a choice too heavy for her to bear.

Heart pounding, with what little ether courses her veins boiling, Sheena finally allows herself to weep. Corrine catches up to her with a hop, worryingly pawing at her legs as Sheena loses herself in despair. Selfishly, she screams in rage at the skies, blaming the Architect above for putting them all in this position, for balancing fate in her hands.

Her scream stops dry. She curls into herself, breathing heavily, cursing fate.

Fate...

_“You’d have more luck trying to awaken a blade than changing fate.”_

_Wait._

Brown eyes fly open. Her heart skips a beat, and Sheena gasps. Her fingers painfully dig into the dirt.

No, no.

She refuses to give up.

Bones heavy with exhaustion, the fire in her slowly rekindling before it goes out, Sheena shakily raises to a stand. She has a mission in her hands, a destiny to change, a person to protect. The gears in her head begin to turn as she rolls the mission around in her mind, finding loopholes, looking for opportunities where to strike. This isn’t over yet. Not until _she_ says so. Destiny cannot stop one who’s already outside of the margin of fate.

Because Sheena Fujibayashi has already changed fate once before, and she knows that she can do it again.

* * *

Sheena bristles under the weight of that request. She feels it grip her shoulders and reach for her heart, nearly tearing her apart before anger comes instead and keeps her afloat. “What the hell do you mean, not tell anyone else?” she demands, voice trembling. Zelos laughs. It sends her blood ablaze in ways it hadn’t for many, many years. "What, did you... did you lie about—"

"About Aegises remembering? Nah, we really do remember everything each time we’re reborn. It’s how we’re _built.”_ Zelos laughs, then shakes his head. He sighs again before finally getting his head out of his palm, looking at Sheena again, grin tight and sharp. The hand still on his core crystal now taps it twice. “The problem was the transfer. _I_ fucked that up.”

He shrugs and looks away from Sheena’s confused frown, sitting back again with both hands behind him, supporting his weight. “Turns out that we artificials aren't quite as perfect as the real thing, when it comes to moving our data through the network," he explains.

The first moon rises through the horizon. Zelos sets his eyes on it, body tense as if he were waiting for Sheena to stop staring. So she follows his gaze. He speaks so casually about his own memory loss that Sheena feels the first few tears escape her eyes, frustrated more than anything as Zelos dismisses his own loss as if it were nothing to be worried about. As if it were something silly that he could just push out of his mind.

More tears fall. She wipes them away with the heel of her hand. Nothing about this is some stupid, silly thing he can just wave off like it’s nothing. Because what did he forget, in the transfer? How much of their time together is lost? How can he just sacrifice his own mind—his own _life_ —like that, and then dare ask that Sheena not tell _anyone_ about it?

It’s tearing her apart. His request still rings in her mind, but Sheena doesn’t have the strength of heart to think too much about it now; she fears losing herself in and drowning under the weight of its waters added to her own grief. Not now, not now. She still needs to stay afloat a little longer.

So instead she decides to voice a question after the short pause. “What… what did you forget?”

Zelos scoffs. “Well, clearly, whatever you referenced just now is one.”

His words hurt more than they should. Because it should be a good thing, at least, that he’s forgotten the exact moment when everything began to go to hell around them, but what about everything else before that, or even after that?

But there’s no way to know, exactly, if Zelos can’t even recall _what_ he forgot.

Zelos groans, after saying that. Throws his head back and purses his lips into a fine line. Sheena wipes at her eyes again and steals a glance at him, takes in the pinched expression on his face, makes a guess that the tension on his shoulders is because he’s trying to regulate just how much of his regret is going to bleed into Colette and Lloyd. He’s losing composure, fast. They can both feel this conversation nearing its end.

It takes him a minute to exhale that tension away and try again. Then the Aegis opens his eyes. “I don’t know,” comes his whisper. He scoffs again. “I mean, how should I know? I don’t _remember.”_

"Then _how many_ did you forget?" Sheena asks instead.

“Does that really matter, in the end?”

“Just answer the damn question.”

Zelos makes an annoyed sound with his tongue, after the little grumble that comes out under his breath. "A few, I guess. But not enough to be detrimental.” He gestures vaguely with one hand before setting it back down on the grass. His eyes are still on the stars. “It really doesn’t matter, though. It's only a small price to pay."

“You shouldn’t have had to pay a price,” Sheena growls. She wipes at her face when tears spill again, cursing at herself when Zelos sighs at the motions. “Not after everything you have already gone through.”

He takes a moment, then looks at her with his head tilted, humming. “Sometimes sacrifices must be made.”

“Well, I’m sick of sacrifices. And I’m sick of you telling me to give up.”

Zelos says nothing. He just makes a low humming sound again.

And that’s all he has to say.

The thread of the conversation reaches an end and dies out. Adrift in the silence and with the lack of anything else to focus on, there’s nothing to hide the sound when Sheena sniffles as the tears start running freely down her cheeks. But she gives up wiping at them now, just lets herself feel the loss that Zelos keeps denying himself, allows herself to break and her frustrations to come out in the open before they boil over later and threaten to destroy her from within.

Wind blows again, carrying the lowering temperatures under the rise of the moons. Sheena shivers as she breaks. It’s not giving up, she tells herself as she exhales slowly. She’s come too far to give up, no matter what her own charge says. She won’t give up. She _can’t._ How can you even allow herself to stop fighting the tides of fate when you fear losing everything you know to them in the first place?

The night crawling up in the sky paints the scene much differently from the sunset that they’d been bathed in at first. Zelos’ glow is the only thing keeping them away from the darkness’ clutches as the moons peek into the heavens, as they gather their borrowed light for the Aegis and his guard to see with. Zelos spares them a glance as Sheena’s tears continue to fall. It’s been a while, she realizes. They should get back to camp soon before they worry anyone with how long they’ve been gone for.

Fine, fine. She takes a deep breath, trying to will herself to calm down at least enough to pick herself back up to ask.

And then she hears a chuckle, soft and breathy, and sees a hand reach over to wipe at her tears before she herself can.

Ah.

Sheena sniffles again. Zelos doesn’t drop his hand, instead waiting for her to turn to look at the Aegis to her side before he reaches forward again. "I’m not telling you to give up,” he says, wiping at her tears in an echo of a memory Sheena knows he no longer has any access to. It makes the tears swell up again in her eyes. Zelos just wipes them again. “Come on, don’t cry. I'm still here. I haven’t forgotten about _you,_ at least. Right?"

That just makes the tears swell up again. Zelos chuckles, shrugging as he gives up and stops wiping at them, instead choosing to rise to a stand with one swift motion, dusting off his pants and sparing one last look at the moons. There’s a weight on his squared shoulders as he smiles at the smaller of the two, a tightness that remains on his expression even when he turns back to Sheena, and for a second Sheena finds herself longing for their failed resonance.

"There’s no point fretting over every ‘if only’. We just gotta roll with the punches from now on, okay?” he says. He reaches a gloved hand down, offering it to his guard to take, and adds, “After all, whatever will be, will be."

Oh.

Huh.

Sheena snorts.

It’s a slow and breathy sound under her breath, little spasms in her lungs that come and go as she stares wide-eyed at her charge. Zelos tilts his head, his eyes and smile gaining a slight sharp edge to them. Of course, of course. Laughing still she wipes at the new, fresh well of warm tears that gather in her eyes with the heel of her palm, letting her charge’s words push her out of her own misery. Right. There’s nothing they can do.

And it’s not giving up, so much as it is accepting everything for what it is.

Right?

Illuminated under the white moonlight of Aselia’s moons, Sheena reaches forward and takes the Aegis’ hand in hers, letting him pull her up to stand side by side. They don’t let go. The dark cloud of Sheena’s regrets dissipates slowly into the air as she smiles back.

And hand in hand they both move on.


End file.
